A Goddess on the canvas, a Pixie with a paintbrush
by Meiriona
Summary: Jinx Murphy had always been searching for a Goddess to put into her paintings. Raven Roth just wanted to read and write her plays. So when Jinx gets it into her head that the new girl HAS to be her model, the chaos has only just begun.AU RaeJinxFriendship
1. Goddess 1

A gallery in New York. Swarms of wealthy patrons crowd into the doorway, hoping for even a glimpse of the goddesses. Gasps go up as the artist unveils her latest work. Journalists beg questions. "What will you do next?" "Miss Jinx, I hear your work is coveted by the large galleries." "Is it true you taught yourself?" "Miss Jinx, where does the beauty you paint come from?" "Miss Jinx," "Miss Jinx," "Jinxie, come on slugabed, Einie, Miney, and Mo want to see you."

Damnit. Still just a dream. I'm Jinx. Now I bet your waiting for the real name that I hate. Nonexistent. Legally, Jinx Murphy. How the hell did I get stuck with that name? Fun story, really. My grandmother was a Calcutta girl, married well. My grandfather had some brilliant idea and made a fortune, so when my Aunt Meena was born, he moved his family to California. My grandparents are strict Hindu, and live with my uncle Kalpan and his wife, now that he's married and living just outside of LA.

Amma and I are a good deal north of them. Amma is really into her Hindu heritage. She always hennas her limbs and wears saris she makes herself. She's beautiful, long limbs and dark flowing hair, always smiling. She's not rail thin, my mother. Very curvy and big hipped. You always see her, this dark figure in a red sari, in the garden. Our bungalow has an enormous garden. No yard, just garden. She's always out there, talking to the flowers. My grandmother says she named her perfectly, Ila, it means earth. You can't talk to her though.

Amma isn't quite all there, you see. My father was a political activist, a daredevil, an original. He overdosed when I was three. She refuses to acknowledge he's dead. I think the event was completely blocked out of her memory. Sometimes, when I'd been naughty, she would actually say 'Wait till your father gets home young lady.' I didn't have the heart to correct her.

That still doesn't explain my name though. Jinx. My mother is a strange woman. I had a twin, stillborn. Her grave is in the garden. Hexe was her name. Amma said she married a man named Murphy, so her daughters' names were almost already given to her. I think if Hexe had lived, things might have been different. I would have still run around like a banshee child, but I think she would have kept me out of trouble. I probably wouldn't have broken my arm twice. I also probably wouldn't have orphaned Einie Miney and Mo. They're rabbits. They were days old when I killed their mother. Not on purpose! She scared me, and I reacted. Rabbits can scare to death easily. I cried, made a grave for her, and wrapped the kits in my sari. Amma and I too care of them. Now they live in the garden. I try to paint them, but they just don't have the spark. I want to be a famous artist, but nothing in my life has the beauty I want to paint.

I tried the neighbours, but they never stayed still, or posed at all like I wanted them to. I got frustrated at them, they were avoiding me by the time I was seven. Thanks to that, I didn't have many friends. When I was twelve, I had a best friend. Mandy Anders. Wild children, we were. We'd go to her house everyday after school and eat cookie dough and blast eighties punk in her room. We'd scream and slam until the cookie dough wore off or we broke something. Her younger sister sometimes ate the cookie dough with us, but even though they were only a year apart, Kori is a completely different creature. She's quiet, but the type who kicks her heels and squeals. The type to cry at romance movies and take long walks on the beach. Not our scene. Then middle school came, and we drifted apart. Mandy is a social creature. She needs people around her, to be the center of attention and tell everyone what she thinks. She wants to be there, do that and get the t-shirt. I'd rather watch, and grab people's emotions with my art.

In eighth grade, I punked out. One of the neighbors, Selinda, who's two years older than me, got me into a piercing war. Each trying to outdo the other. When that ended, I had two holes in each lobe, three on the top of my right ear, two in the left, and one in my nose. I dyed my hair neon pink and dropped the saris in favour of vinyl skirts and tunic tops. I bought striped stockings, suede jackets, boots and bags in black, black, black. Sure, I throw in purples and blues. Amma says I look like a giant bruise with a rash. I say a giant bruise with a rash and pinkeye. Yeah, I use pink eye shadow like mad. The teachers hate my look. Every time I walk into class, they look at me like I'm some kind of prostitute. Frankly, I don't care; I spend half the time in class sketching backgrounds anyways. Of course, the backgrounds are useless without a goddess to put on them. And I just couldn't find a goddess.

Until I spotted her. I like to think I have an eye for dark, passionate, tormented beauty. The type of thing that makes people cry for the soul they never knew they had until someone poked at the hole it left. She was definitely that. She was sitting under a tree at lunch, shoulder hunched up, hiding behind her hair. You couldn't see her face at all, behind the hair so black it gave off the blue sheen you see usually only on animals. I squinted to see what she was reading, and noticed she was highlighting, too, studying. Ooh, Macbeth, heavy.

Hunched over her book like that, I thought she looked like The Morrigan. You know, that Welsh battle goddess? I have a shirt with her; it says 'Is this your eye?' I don't wear it, but I thought of it. I was just thinking how perfectly I could paint her in the role when I noticed a couple of kids hanging around her; Logan, Markov, and the Wilson girl. Wilson looked tweaked, Morrigan must've shown her up in lit or something.

"Whatcha drawing?"

"Buzz off West." This kid had been trying to be social with me for a while now. I always shot down his attempts at flirting, but he kept coming back. It wasn't because I'm a vain little thing, though I am. He's easy on the eyes and all. Just, he's too energetic, too excitable. Permanent sugar high.

"Only if you'll go out with me on Friday" I blinked. He must be joking, no one dates Jinx. She's this bitchy artist who lives in her paintings. The only thing that can make her hot is on a canvas. I might have said yet, just to see if I could pull some material from it, but Morrigan looked ready to explode. I politely declined and slammed my sketchbook shut, storming my way over.

"Logan, Markov, Wilson," I growled, "You're in the way of my scene. Get out."

Markov, blonde hair blue eyed gal, sighed. Logan scattered when I said his name, and Markov tugged the platinum tresses of the Wilson girl, and left shortly after.

"They buggin the Morrigan?" I asked, kicking my boot against the tree. She nodded, and I heard a clink. I noticed she had a bronze circlet with a red gem, garnet maybe, on her Ajana charka. (Amma went through a chakra fad) "You're new right?" Again, she nodded. "I want you to be my model" A bold move, I could barely make out her face, and her body was hidden under the bulky blue sweatshirt. Morrigan stood and moved to leave. I blocked her path. 'I'm serious. I've been searching years for a goddess. You're her."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what I am" Her voice was cold, and carried no hint of emotion.

"Bullshit. You are perfect" I said it with more conviction this time. "I want to get you into the garden with black wings and a soul in one hand.

"Come on, let's ditch. I'll show you casa Jinx, and you can help me drain Amma's supply of fruit teas." I didn't allow her a response, just grabbed her hand and dragged her to the parking lot. I think Selinda's brother flipped us off on the way out.

I don't have a car, but I do have one of those electric scooters. I've fit three people on it before, but two is the most that can ride comfortably. I had to coax the Morrigan onto it, and at first she gripped my shoulders like she was holding on for her life. I drive fast. I do just about everything fast. Soon, though, she relaxed and seemed to enjoy herself. Soon enough we were in the neighbourhood. Bunch of theme houses there, like the big Victorian, the caravan, the shoe. Yeah, there's a shoe. You get nuts out here. I stopped at our bungalow, one of the more normal houses on the block.

"You live here?" She tried to hide it, but she was impressed.

"I try to. Come on in." I pried my boots off and she slipped off her Vans. We passed through the parlour. I think the Morrigan was a bit shocked by the tapestry, or maybe the daggers, or the life sized statues of the gods. She looked at Krishna like a well-trained puppy who'd just head his name called. I continued to my room.

My room isn't what you'd expect from the girl in the vinyl skirt and combat boots. Warm brown walls covered with art, smooth wooden floors, and a full-length window that overlooked the garden. Two easels were set up, and I think Mo was poking his head in the window, which I had left open, since I basically used it like a door. I sat down on my bed, an air mattress so covered in pillows that sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in them. "Have you always been an artist then?" She asked. I responded in the affirmative and she wandered to the desk where I had some art books stacked and a sketch out.

"This is good. But she looks so empty, like there's no soul…"

"Yeah, that's my mother" I said without a hint of emotion.

"I'm sorry, is she?" She let the question hang.

"Dad's death hit her real hard."

"Jinxie! When did you get home?" Speak of the devil. Amma scurried in, knees still covered with dirt from working in the garden. "You skipped class again, didn't you? Jinx! How many times have I told you- oh, who is this?"

I didn't want to say 'The Morrigan' so I was glad when she extended her hand and said "Raven Roth, nice to meet you Mrs. …"

"Oh just call me Ila, no need to be formal about it." Raven. I nearly burst out laughing. The Morrigan's avatar is the raven. Talk about irony. Or maybe just being well named. But, Raven looked about to protest first name basis, so I had to save her.

"Humour her," I whispered, "Or else she'll insist on calling you Misse Sahib Roth." I gave Amma a quick hug, avoiding the dirt. "Raven's new in town, and Logan's girls were giving her a hard time. Could you make us some fruit tea? Thanks, Amma!" I steered her toward the kitchen, silently promising to explain later.

"Ok, first things first. Hair out of your face." Raven looked shocked as I went into artist mode. Bushing the locks back with my fingers, I took her chin in my hand and bean examining her facial structure. "Good, not too aristocratic, but not a farm girl either. I bet just a bit of kohl woud be enough to get the squinting look of the Morrigan; and if we pull your hair back, maybe layer a braid on the left side, and you smile a bit you will be a perfect Isis. Oh! And with the right light: Guinevere. It would take some posing, but with a wig you'd be Epona and-"

"Why are you doing this?" Raven pulled away, shaking her hair back into place. "You just met me, next thing I know you've dragged me out of school and to your house before even asking my name."

I shrugged. "I'm impulsive." I said, sniffing the air. "Tea's ready!" I grabbed a sketchbook and pencil before heading into the kitchen. When we were seated around the table sipping the raspberry peach tea, I asked what brought the Roth's to Ashborough.

"My father." The way she said it made it sound like she hated to talk about it but desperately needed to. So, I pressed her a bit. "Not a good man, he paid for the house, and everything Angela, that's my mother, and I need. I think it's mostly so we don't screw things up with his new wife. Good riddance, I can't see how anyone would marry a man that violent and short tempered. He broke Angela's arm once. "

I gave a low whistle. "And here I thought my family was up. Worst I have is four or five generations back my great something grandfather was hanged for murder." I said it with a bit of pride; Sundar was somewhat of a hero to us.

Family topics were dropped quickly after that. We moved on to literature. I mentioned that the fact she was reading Macbeth was one of the main reasons I was interested in her in the first place. Turns out Raven wrote poetry. I told her to show me some, maybe I could incorporate it into one of the paintings of her.

"Why do you want to paint me anyway?" She asked in a tone of disbelief. She had no idea she was beautiful, it was obvious to me then.

"I want people who see my art to ache. I want them to wail for their own lost souls, as tears of passion carve hot trails into their cheeks." I admit, when you ask me about my art I get a bit pathetic. "I want it to cut open their chests and present them with their still beating hearts. For that, I need someone who can take the slightest gesture or glance and tell a story with it, someone who appears as if they know exactly what in the deepest corners of your soul." I took a breath, "You do that. When I saw the way you looked at Wilson, the way she seemed to shrink back at your very presence, I was positive."

Raven looked like she still didn't believe me. "You're one strange girl, do you know that?"

"I know tha' thinks I'm a queer lad, but I think tha' art th' queerest little lass I ever saw." I said, in a poor Yorkshire accent.

"_The Secret Garden_, right?" She asked, smiling slightly. Just the corner of her mouth, mind, but she definitely smiled. I saw it twitch! I chuckled, she not only understood my bumbling attempt at broad Yorkshire, she knew where it came from.

"I love that book" I said, draining the last of my tea. "I always liked to go out into the garden and play that no one was to know about it and I'd talk quietly to the rabbits and the buds"

"Must have been nice." Raven observed, setting her mug down quietly.

"Lonely, but nice. I grew out of it when Mandy Anders started to pay attention to me. She got me into 80's punk. Wish we hadn't drifted." I sat thinking about that for a little while.

"You need to head home?" I asked suddenly. "I'll give you a ride."

"On that death machine?" She asked, looking appalled.

"Hey, it's safer than most cars these days!" I protested, even though it probably wasn't true.

"Just take me back to the school, I'll walk from there."

Thus began one seriously screwed up friendship.


	2. Goddess 2

This chapter is dedicated to BlackGothFaerie for noticing that the first chapter, and indeed a good deal of the story, draws inspiration from "Violet&Claire"

I believe that book is a modern retelling of the fairy tale 'Rose Red, Rose White' which is the MAJOR inspiration for this fic. I shall begin this chapter by warning you it's going to have foreshadowing of loooong off plots.

This is in no way shape or form a romance fic. If there are any relationships to come, they will be vague as hell. I know I'm hinting a bit at BB/Rae, but that is ONLY for my sister. It will not go beyond hints of him liking her, since as you might have pulled from this chapter, I say it's Joey/Rae all the way._(Begins chanting to self 'Let's go Jericho!')_I also am making vague hints at Wally/Jinx. That might go on to mutual attraction, but it's doubtful it will be anything but minor.

The biggest possibility for relationship is a shoujo ai between two mentioned characters in this chapter, and the shounen ai referanced at the end of it. Scratch that, the shounen ai WILL be in there, but it's minor, just something Jinx likes to watch.

* * *

"Miss Murphy! I would appreciate it if you would stop drawing and answer the question!" Mrs. Ellsworth was saying to me in a voice like nails on a chalk board. I always picture her as a dirty harpy. A wretched beast with a woman's head and breasts, ragged wings flapping madly trailing to a bird's body and taloned feet. She's always screeching at me, even though I've usually memorized the material. It's just English, why should I pay attention when it's nothing new to me? 

"What question was that?" I asked calmly, not looking up from my sketch.

"_Pride and Prejudice_." _Yeah, you have both in excess. _I thought rudely, barely keeping from voicing my opinion.

"I read it." I replied, keeping quiet the fact that when I bought the book for the class I already had a report on it written on my iBook. So what was the question? If I had heard it I'm sure I'd know the answer. Oh, fine. Don't tell me then. Ellsworth's nostrils flared are she looked around the room with disdain. "The overall theme presented in this chapter is the fakery and acting that accompanies love."

"No." I interrupted, standing up. "_Pride and Prejudice _is a satirical novel on young English ladies of the day. It portrays the worst and most comical faults of society at that time, most of which have survived to today. Anyone who takes it at face value not only misses the point completely, but is severely misinformed about history."

"I am glad you have such a strong opinion, but you are incorrect."

"Oh, give it up you old windbag. Satire is Satire. Don't worry; it takes an intelligent mind to comprehend it. Maybe when you're older." I was pushing it; the ancient hag wasn't too pleased at that line.

"Miss Murphy! Detention, after school today." I rolled my eyes. Yeah, goody goody, I get detention.

I _hate_ detention. Whoever (or is it whomever?)thought of it was an idiot. Most kids just space out like they do in class, some read, and Oh look! Wilson must've picked a fight with a teacher too. She's a smart one, I'll give you that, head of the debate team. But I swear to Brahma, ok, Amma wouldn't like that. To Durga then, when I hear "Rose Wilson" I groan. So sweet and innocent, with her platinum hair and cherub face. Then she baits you into a debate she knows she has the upper hand in and WHAM, leaves you humiliated and angry. Let's see who else is here. Nobodies, nobodies, some heavily attitude endowed jock I've never bothered to learn the name of, couple of the Goth crowd; probably got caught smoking; GODS I'm so sick of this same old pack. Nothing interesting ever happens.

Last year this guy, Jason, I think his name was, blew up a good six foot circle of the lab. When he got expelled he went around telling people what to do with their lives, like he was so superior and everything. He asked me what I was doing here, said the suburbs were no place for art. I told him if that was his idea of a pick up line, he was in for a lot of rejection. He laughed and tossed me a flyer for some club and rode off.

I almost wish I'd gotten to know him more, this guy looked like he honestly couldn't care less about what people thought. I think I could have gotten some good paintings out of him. Those shadowy ones, so the face is just a skull with darkness for flesh. That's what he reminded me of, skeleton face.

And Flinders is trying to get my attention. Oh, goody, his partner in crime is here too. That kid who skipped three grades, the little freak child. Not a freak child in the good sense either, just the creepy.

"What?" I hissed, not appreciating this in the least.

"What're you in for?" I made a rude gesture in reply. "Bitch." I heard him mutter under his breath before returning to plotting with egghead. Something tells me they were the ones who spiked the spaghetti sauce to the point the PE coach got tipsy. Those two must live in detention. It's funny, what they do, and I get a kick out of it, helped 'em out a couple of times.

This is so pointless! Best years of my life? Balderdash! Wait, where did that word come from, it's practically archaic! I pondered that until a wadded up ball of paper hit me in the back of the head. I opened it, having nothing better to do anyways.

"_Tell your girlfriend_

_That if she thinks_

_Her fancy limo_

_And better than thou_

_Attitudes are enough_

_That she can try to_

_Show me up and_

_Shove into the team_

_She's got another_

_Thing coming."_

Beneath it was a (poor) sketch of a rose. What was she talking about anyways? Girlfriend, limo, shove into the team? Whatever, not worth my time, I'm sure. Still, it's not exactly a good sign if Rose is ticked at you. She leads one of the big groups, the politically or scientifically inclined kids, you know, the leaders and thinkers of tomorrow. Besides them and the partiers, pretty much all you have left are the Cali classics. You know the type, the guys with permanent sunglass tan lines, the would-be starlets, the trust fund babies who can complain about anything and everything. Ok, so I exaggerate a bit. But that's the main powers, and Rose has cred in her scene, which can mess things up for you seriously.

Finally, freedom! I usually only get home as the sun sets, so I figured I could waste some time at the elementary school playground. I climbed up onto the jungle gym to hang upside down for a while. Some days I'd go to the farmers market, others I'd make the trip into the city and just soak up the ugliness. Usually I just go to the beach and watch the surfers, spot a couple of guys snogging. I have a couple I like to watch, under the pretext of sketching a bit of the beach beyond their usual spot. After a few minute with the blood rushing to my head, I flipped over and to the ground, shaking out my hair. I decided to go down to the market for some fruit on the way home.

"Ah, the little Jinx is here, how is your mother?"

"I can't give you a definite, you know Amma. She's got some new recipes. I'll bring the leftovers tomorrow, if you want." Amma is always cooking new things, and sometimes she sells the leftovers cheaply or donates them to shelters. That doesn't bring in money, but there is a book deal in the works. I'm a bit worried she might need a book tour to promote it.

"No, no, that's ok. Just make sure you aren't in detention on Friday, the gallery interview won't wait for you." Miz Suzane; you have to spell it M-I-Z S-U-Z-A-N-E; is Amma's business partner and best friend. She liked my art and found a gallery owned by a friend of a friend where I could work cashier at. She's pretty cool for a Lanka witch-woman. I gave her an 'I will' and sped home.

"Jinxie! Where's your new friend?"

"I dunno, I hung around the school for a while with the Wilson girl."

"The banshee girl?" Amma asked, breezing about the kitchen, cooking up dished such that my taste buds have never dreamed of.

"Amma!" I scolded, laughing and trying not to get in the way. "She's not a banshee. A siren maybe, but not a banshee."

"You young vixen! Don't speak ill of your peers." Oblivious to the fact she had just a moment ago sad something much worse. "You should call her, you do have her number?" Who? Oh, she was talking about Raven again, just changing topics in the blink of an eye. I snapped a bubble in my gum, then nodded, pulling down my stocking to my ankle, where I kept my phone book scrawled on my leg. "Dinner in fifteen minutes." I heard as I grabbed the cordless and wandered into the garden.

"You've reached the Roth household, Angela speaking." A soft voice, delicate, like crystal glass that has been cracked and is now held carefully, scarcely allowing breath, answered.

"Can I speak to Raven?" I asked quietly, subconsciously trying to seem polite. The response was one of mixed shock and joy.

"Oh, yes! Who should I say is calling?"

"Tell her it's Jinx." Even over the phone, I was sure Angela raised an eyebrow. I heard the fumbling clatter as the phone was passed off, followed by a tentative "Hi?"

"Don't sound so excited. I want to get some sketches started of you as the Morrigan. Just concept stuff, but you have to be there." I talk too much when it's about something important to me. "I was planning to do them today but I got thrown into detention. Oh, did Logan an Markov give you any trouble?" Suddenly remembering who I'd initially saved her from.

"The annoying kid with the chlorine green hair?" She asked, obviously understanding.

"That would be Gar Logan for ya."

"Right. Is there any way to turn off the jokes?" I grinned. So he liked her, if he was starting the lame jokes. It's his way of shaking hands, forcing a pity laugh out of you.

"Usurp his punch line with something scathing. Or, I've found death threats work. But that requires him to actually believe you'll follow through." Raven thought that over for a moment, obviously planning something. "So, if I were to walk away when he comes over and backhand him if he follows…?"

"Should work. Tara, that's the blonde; his on again off again girlfriend, actually I think she's into a whole 'nother type; she'll likely snicker and either compliment you or insult him." "Huh?"

"They may cuddle and hold hands, but I suspect Tara's not into guys like him." I ever so slightly emphasized 'guys'.

"Or, the easy way is just to hang around Joey, that's Wilson's brother. They aren't close so Logan and his girls usually keep clear."

"Is he the quiet blond with the guitar I saw across the courtyard?"

"Mute, yeah. Something when he was young, medical. I've never asked about it. But easiest way to get jokester off your back is to keep in earshot of his music."

"You seemed to scatter them quickly." She observed calmly. Jeez, this is weird; it's like she doesn't know how to express emotion in her voice. Or, no, like she's been overly trained to hide it.

"Ah, but I have my own problems. That West kid, for one."

"Oh?"

"I know, killer looks, but his mother must've lived at Starbucks while she was pregnant."

"That much energy?" It was just a hint of disbelief and sarcasm, but that's better than nothing.

"You have no idea. Oh, and have Flinders and O'Jeneus gotten on your radar yet?"

"The stomach and the mouth, Pinky and the Brain, midget and mammoth? Yeah. The short one's in my chem. class. Spent all of today showing off all he knew about how certain poisons react to certain solutions. A bit morbid." I chuckled, that's Mikron for ya.

"I'm just glad he's in my algebra two, or I'd still be failing."

"…"

"Ooooh! Smells like dinner's ready, I'll find you at lunch, don't bring anything, I'll have leftovers enough to feed an army."

"Uhm, ok. Thanks?"

"Ciao!" I inhaled deeply, jasmine mint rice, and do I detect raspberry marinated lamb? Heaven! I took my seat at the kitchen table. Only one person is allowed to 'work' in the kitchen at a time. House rules. Mostly to keep me from ruining dinner or my appetite, I gather. "Amma, this looks incredible! A gift from Brahma I'm sure."

"Just eat, you. And tell me about the beach boys, did you see them today, you think the little tiff is over?" Dinner conversation, as usual. That's life in my chaotic household, she asks about how my spying on a couple I don't even know the names of is going. Tomorrow I'd try and see how those two were doing. I'm such a rotten gossip.

* * *

whoo. I put that together while putting OFF work on Shreya to Jinx. Don't kill me. I'm not slacking... it's HARD. Trust me when you see chapter 13 of Shreya to Jinx, you'll understand the work that went into it. This, on the other hand, was just a lot of FLB reading and fun. Felt a bit dialoge heavy, but thats just me. Review review review. See the legnth of this chapter? This should be the adverage for this fic. two thousand words. Hopefully that will make up for the wait. Olivia, you have to beta.

Olivia - Haha. She has beta'd. She is so awesome.

So she thinks. Well, there it is. Chapter two. Reviews are the only way to get more, plus I like to talk to you guys .


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